Rarest of Them All
by WastelandRose
Summary: Five times Dean Winchester gave blood. Just some randomness that came to me while standing in line at the blood bus. GIVE BLOOD!
1. To get a girl

Rarest of Them All

Five times Dean Winchester gave blood.

I. To get a girl.

The first time was the _only _time Dean gave blood trying to get a girl. He was twenty-one, just walking through town to meet Sammy outside his school. In the parking lot of the park he usually cut through was a blood bus. Some organization or another was having a drive.

And, well, that was nice and all, but donor drives shouldn't be _allowed_ to have smokin' hot recruiters standing out on the sidewalk, reeling him in with low-cut shirts and tricking him into giving up his blood type.

AB negtative.

Rarest of them all.

Damnit.

She practically threw herself at him when she found out, her free donor t-shirt recently slitted at the collar to reveal a truly distracting amount of cleavage. And, hey, Dean wasn't complaining.

But after that, the whole process was a bit of a whirlwind.

Being escorted to the front of the long line.

Being asked a long ass list of ridiculous personal questions--had he ever accepted money for sex or had sex with a hemophiliac or had sex with a man or shared needles with anyone who'd ever accepted money for sex or had sex with a hemophiliac or had sex with a man who'd had sex with a man?

What. The. Hell.

Still reeling from that barrage, Dean was pricked and bled nearly dry and force fed crappy cookies. He was then set free with a bright "thanks for saving a life" and a free donor t-shirt of his own. Not even a phone number from the hot recruiter for all his trouble. He had to admit that he didn't look his best when down a pint, but, still, it was the least the girl could've done.

On his own walk home from school, Sam spotted his brother on a bench in the park. Dean was doubled over, head between his knees.

"Dude," the taller of the pair questioned, taking a seat and laying a concerned hand on Dean's back, "Are you alright?"

"Vampires," Dean gasped, woozy and trying desperately not to pass out. Stupid donor drives. Stupid smokin' hot recruiters with great boobs. Stupid rare blood type. Stupid, _stupid_ needles.

Sam tensed immediately, whipping out a knife in the middle of the park and scanning the immediate area. "Where?" he demanded, eyes darting and adrenaline racing.

Dean pointed, wincing as the bruised joint on his "good veined" arm straightened.

Sam followed his brother's hand across a wide field of grass to a small parking lot, to a blood bus that had bright balloons tied to its mirrors. Frowning, he looked at the black pressure bandage on Dean's arm, Dean's chalk white pallor.

Sam laughed. "You gave blood?" the eighteen-year-old asked, slightly incredulous, "Why'd you do that?"

"Why the hell do I do anything?" his brother snapped, sounding suspiciously faint, "Nice tits and free cookies! And once I grow back the blood they stole, I'm gonna burn that evil bus to the ground!" He tried to stand and nearly ended up on his ass.

"Easy!" Sam chuckled as he caught the wobbly blonde and settled him carefully back onto the bench, "Let's just go grab some lunch. You'll feel a lot better once you've got some real food in you."

"How do you know?" Dean complained weakly, swaying.

Flipping shaggy fringe out of his eyes, Sam beamed, "I've done it before. You only have to be seventeen. It saves lives, you know? And I'm a rare blood type."

"SHHHHHH!!!" Dean hissed, jumping frantically, clumsily all over Sam's burly frame, "_She'll hear you!!!_" He ended up on his ass in the dirt and vowed to never again permit his veins to be opened voluntarily.


	2. To save a girl

II. To save a girl.

The second time, Dean gave blood to save a girl. It was like fate.

He was just sitting in the ER waiting room, filling out bogus insurance information while Sammy got his arm casted. He wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on around him, just basking in the fact that neither he nor his brother had been seriously injured in their latest successful hunt.

The doors of the ambulance bay opened with a bang, and Dean nearly jumped straight out of his crappy plastic chair. He turned to glare at the source of the noise.

He found that it was a team of frantic paramedics rushing alongside a gurney. The small form on it was that of a little girl, probably no older than six or seven. And there was so much blood that it was splashing onto the white tile floor. Dean was amazed that a child that small even had that much blood in her to begin with. The wheels of the gurney left long streaks all the way down the hallway.

The girl's mother was running alongside, crying and shouting at the paramedics to save her baby. The paramedics, quickly joined by a handful of doctors and nurses, began chattering back and forth about needing blood, about being tapped out of universal thanks to a multi-car pile-up they'd had earlier that morning. The girl's mother was shrieking that she was AB negative.

AB negative.

Rarest of them all.

Damnit.

Dean abandoned the insurance forms and walked straight up to the desk. "I heard you guys need blood," he said, holding out his "good veined" arm, "Me and my brother are AB negative, and we'll give to save the little girl."

They wouldn't take Sammy's blood. He had just sustained bone trauma and was hopped up on painkillers anyways. So it was all up to Dean.

Later, down about half his blood volume, the older Winchester was sharing a hospital room with his baby brother. Because no way in hell was the hospital staff letting either of them walk out. Nurses flitted through every ten minutes or so, bringing Dean crappy cookies and juice, checking to make sure he hadn't died, telling him with relieved smiles that the little girl was going to be ok.

"Dean," Sam whispered, feebly attempting to reach across the space between their beds, "Dean."

"Hmma?" was all the other could muster, staring up at the world through layers and layers of soft white haze.

More than a little high on morphine or vicodin or whatever the hell the good shit they were pumping into his veins was, Sam Winchester beamed. "You're a really good person," he announced wistfully, pride and just a tinge of residual hero-worship evident in his drug-addled voice.

Dean snorted.


	3. To learn

III. To learn.

The third time Dean gave blood, it was so that he could learn how it was done. He and Sammy had the same rare blood type, after all. After seeing the little girl empty and clinging to life, the brothers (Sammy) decided that it would be immensely useful to know one more way to save each other in a pinch.

Sam pretended to be a first timer, nervous of needles and the whole process in general. The technicians at the blood drive were very sympathetic, allowing Dean to go first and narrating the procedure as they performed it. Sam asked his million and one questions--what all the equipment was called and how to find a good vein and did the blood need to be treated before it was used. He even asked about all the different blood types and what made AB negative so special.

AB negative.

Rarest of them all.

Damnit.

Dean, being an excellent big brother/pin cushion, sat back and tried not to faint. He was missing it, couldn't really listen over the sound of ringing in his own ears, but knew that Sammy would fill him in later. Sammy would teach him another way of saving Sammy.

That made passing out in the parking completely worthwhile.


	4. To hunt

IV. To hunt.

The fourth time Dean gave blood, it was for a case.

They suspected a nest of vampires was operating a blood bank in order to lure in victims, mostly homeless people who were giving for a few extra bucks, who were turning up dead and drained.

Watching his blood pulse out of his body through the clear plastic tube, Dean couldn't help but be absolutely irate. No way would his blood be going to a good cause like the other times. No drive to contribute to, no little girl to save. As soon as all the humans were out of site, some freaking suck-puppy was probably going to pop the cork and chow down on his rare vintage.

AB negative.

Rarest of them all.

Damnit.

Sam was in the bed next to his, looking none the worse for wear, like always. He was never affected by blood loss the way that Dean was. The behemoth shot his brother a comforting look, and Dean would've hit him if he'd had the strength left.

He had no idea how he was going to contribute to this hunt with his head spinning so badly, and just having to let himself be so vulnerable in a known hive of supernatural activity made the blonde's skin crawl.

Dean pressed himself back into the angled bed, feeling his pistol dig into the small of his back. With his free hand, he stroked the concealed butt of the machete hidden against his calf.

The nurse came by to check on the brothers. Dean was sure she was a vamp. She smiled and pressed her undead fingers against Sam's wrist, feeling the throb of blood beneath his skin.

As soon as Deam could stand, the bitch and all her little friends were _so_ dead.


	5. For Sammy

V. For Sammy.

The fifth time Dean gave blood, it was for Sammy.

There was just blood everywhere. Sammy's blood. Thick and starting to congeal, staining the motel sheets and the wall where the arterial spray had hit before Dean managed to get it under control.

And his bloody hands fumbled through their med kid, digging out the supplies they'd lifted out of a hospital pharmacy almost a year ago. Dean had a moment of panic where he completely blanked on the procedure Sam had explained to him so long ago.

However, it was only a few seconds. Then Dean spotted the card. It was laminated, and the instructions on it were penned in his brother's neat, even script. There were even crudely drawn pictures and diagrams.

Dean burst out laughing out of relief, out of intense love for his geek brother who thought to write down the procedure for drawing blood, laminate it, and store it away for a night such as this one.

He tied the tourniquet tight and missed his vein three times.

He held Sam's cold, limp hand while the bag filled, while he prayed and prayed and tried not to remember that it felt the same as when his brother was dead.

But Sammy wouldn't die tonight. Not again. Not when Dean was there to save him because they shared something more than love, more than their hunts and their road trips and their pranks and their lives.

They shared their blood.

AB negative.

Rarest of them all.


End file.
